Fate Unwoven
by scarletbanner
Summary: Series 3, set after The Crystal Cave, AU. When Merlin and Morgana are struck by a terrible crime against sorcery, performed out of pure hatred by Uther Pendragon, they have no choice but to flee Camelot. Whilst their very souls are being attacked, their hatred of one another slowly recedes in to something else. But the tides of destiny can only bear so much...
1. Chapter 1

**A Tale of Fate Unwoven**

**Chapter I – The rage of the storm, the paralysis of knowledge**

**Hello fanfic readers! Hope you enjoy, there definitely aren't enough Mergana fics out there! (Hope mine isn't too bad.)**

**This story is set just after Morgana has been healed – the night before she goes to talk to Morgause – save that doesn't happen in this fic. I think this is a really crucial time in Morgana's journey, because her anger at Uther is a strong driving force for her character, and after a) Being physically weakened after breaking her skull, and b) being emotionally weakened after Uther denies her as his daughter, she was extremely vulnerable. Cue Merlin!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the characters.**

That night in Camelot a storm raged. The wind howled in agony, hurling frail branches at the palace windows. Many men put up the hoods of their cloaks and hurried home, the wind cutting in to their cheeks like knives. It ravaged the city and tore up trees at their roots. And the rain. My God, the rain. It tore at the earth, burst the banks of the rivers and flung itself at the roof of the castle, beating at the windows in an effort to get in.

The very earth itself was crying out in protest of the atrocities already taking place in the heart of Camelot.

The Lady Morgana was near sleep, her head aching with the toll of the past events. As the rain drummed against the windows, she could almost feel fingers drumming on the sides of her head, on her temples. Her head ached with torment and grief, with the despair and hatred that was choking her, sticking in her throat and causing the tears to run down her cheeks. She had heard him. "She is my daughter...she must never know. For Arthur's sake." There was Uther Pendragon. The proud King, who would do anything for his darling son and yet was too ashamed even to acknowledge his illegitimate daughter. Her hands clenched in to fists and she attempted to smash the mirror at her vanity. It barely wobbled, so weakened was she by the fall. She had felt it. She had felt her head break in two and felt the pain blind her with a white hot rage. And she had felt frightened. To know that you are going to die; that the one person who loves you for who you really are is a hundred miles away; it frightened her. For a moment she had seen what life would be like if she did not have Morgause as her guide. Bleaker. Darker. And if she was to survive, she could not afford to feel so frightened again. She would see Morgause, to let her know she was all right, and then Uther was hers. Anger welled up inside her until she felt ready to scream, and ebbed out in to a whimper. She was so tired. Her eyes shut; exhausted from the tears they had shed. The Lady Morgana slept.

Uther sat in his chambers that night. His mind was shrouded in darkness. Deep dark thoughts that were eating away at his soul. His own one, his darling had nearly died that day. Life was so fragile, so short that one so beautiful and sweet could be taken from one in less than a moment. And for once Uther felt remorse. Gaius, whom had saved Lady Morgana, might suffer as a result of what he had planned, what was already set in motion. He knew Gaius had used magic to save her life, both had known that only the deepest of spells could grasp one from the icy clutches of death. His plan had been to reveal this to no one, to watch as those who conspired against him were struck down and exposed as the lecherous tyrants they were. Uther clutched the arm off his chair. Then, all in a moment of weakness, he had told Gaius to use magic. Told him to do whatever it took to save Morgana. And so Gaius would be affected, for succumbing to the King's weaknesses. Uther Pendragon pulled himself up, his mind made up. He would pay a visit to the Physician that night, and explain. He doubted it would affect Gaius seriously – why, he had not practiced magic in the last twenty years save that one night, but Gaius must know, must understand. He sought Gaius's understanding to an extent to which he did not understand, but knew that he could only rest easy should Gaius convince him that what he was doing was for the best. God knows he still needed someone to, even after all these years. With that, the King strode out of his chambers, past the guards and in to the Physician's quarters.

Finally, we come to Merlin, kept awake by the thought of what Prince Arthur will do if his armour is not polished for tomorrow. He polishes with fervour, as if scrubbing at his soul. For Merlin's soul has been blackened in the course of past events. In his dreams he is haunted by the look of terror and betrayal in Morgana's eyes as her throat closed up and caught fire. The one person whom she thought she could trust absolutely, who loved her in spite of who she was becoming, had poisoned her. He knew that, and he kept polishing. He remembers the sudden gasp she gave before she tumbled down the stairs, collapsing at the bottom like a broken doll. Oh he hated her. He hated her because she would not offer him forgiveness, her terms were unconditional and ruthless. Those who had hurt her must suffer. And he had hurt her, there was no denying it. But for a moment, as she had crumpled to the floor, the blood pooling around her head, he had seen where destiny had lead him. To this, a broken young girl crumpled at the bottom of the staircase. Oh she was evil, ruthless, she was beyond redemption. But she was still the girl who had told him that she was coming with him to Ealdor and to hell with the consequences, the girl who was still frightened at what she could do. He would not do her the disservice of pitying her, not when she was so strong, so powerful and free. So instead, he hated her.

The door burst open with a bang. Merlin, startled out of his reverie, quickly hid in an alcove as Gaius moved towards the door, adorned in a rather attractive nightcap. Merlin heard a voice, low and full of urgency, and Gaius closed the door shut. Merlin's eyes widened in surprise. It was Uther.

"I trust we are alone here, Gaius?" Uther asked, his apprehension evident in his voice.

"If you mean Merlin, he is sound asleep, and is unlikely to disturb us, if I know anything about his sloth-like sleeping habits." Merlin snorted, before remembering he was supposed to be asleep in bed. He quickly turned it in to a snore.

"Gaius, I come here to tell you that a couple of months ago I took serious action against sorcery in Camelot. After being so grievously affected by the Mandrake root I was determined that sorcery should have a hold over Camelot no longer. In light of what I am about to tell you, I wish to state now that I feel no remorse for what I have done, but merely wish to protect an old friend and advisor, one who has served me well." Gaius's silence was ominous, and Merlin listened closely. Uther began:

"I was approached by the Sarren, he who hates magic with a such a fierce loathing that even I cannot comprehend it. We fell to talking, and I questioned his regime. How was it that sorcery had been so utterly banished from his kingdom, when the poison of magic seeped through the cracks in my kingdom? What was it that he had done that I in turn could repeat in my own lands? He smiled, and told me that it was simple. Sorcery itself. Not my use of it, nor the use of any third man, but turning the sorcerer's magic on itself and using it to eat away at their very being. There was a substance – I forget its name, but when used would use a sorcerer's magic to inflict such torment, such suffering that the sorcerer would beg for the end. From there, he said, it had been easy. All those who suffered were killed by his men, powerless to stop them. Not a single man, woman or child had escaped." Uther paused, and Merlin could imagine the king's steel gaze fixed on Gaius. When Gaius spoke, he was not enraged or resigned, as Gaius so often was in matters addressing the king. He was fearful. One could hear it in his voice.

"Sire, I have heard of such substances, but I also know that it is nigh impossible for this to have universal effect. Surely it has to be administered to the sorcerer in person, and yet you said you took this action months ago?" Merlin could hear the barely concealed glee in the King's voice as he said,

"Oh see now, this is exactly what I said to the Sarrum when told of this substance. And he gave me an answer so perfect, so fitting that I could not at first believe the sheer simplicity of it." His voice lowered to a whisper, and Merlin strained to catch the King's reedy tone.

"Simply put it in the water."

Merlin slumped against the wall in shock, his heart frozen in fear. He barely heard Uther's apology to Gaius, his assurance that the effects of the poison would be limited to someone like him, who had used magic once in the last twenty years. All he could hear was a voice in his head, screaming for him to get out, to run as hard as he could away from Camelot. He dimly registered the door shut behind Uther, and was brought to his senses by Gaius shouting,

"Merlin, can you hear me? Get up, now!" Merlin scrambled to his feet and ran to Gaius, hoping to see some sign of reassurance in his face. Instead, he was met with the old physician's frown, his face crumpled with the pain of losing the boy who had become like a son to him. Merlin spared Gaius the pain of revelation.

"Gaius, I heard everything. I know what Uther has done." Gaius withdrew a large volume from his bookshelf and poured through it until he came to the passage he sought.

"Merlin, this substance turns your magic against you, it violates that which makes you who you are, but for most it will not have serious effect, merely cause severe discomfort for a day or two whilst soldiers round up those who show symptoms."

"But..." Merlin groaned. He could always hear when Gaius had a but coming on.

"Merlin, you were born with magic; your magic is a part of your soul. For your soul to turn on itself – I do not know what he consequences will be but for all I know they could rip your very body apart." Merlin paled as he heard this, and sank in to his chair. He felt his face being grabbed by Gaius.

"You will have about a week until the poison sinks in. You must flee Uther's kingdom, head for Ealdor, head for anywhere, just get as far away from Camelot as you can." He put his hand on Merlin's shoulder, his expression deadly serious.

"There will only be one other affected as you will be. And you know who that is." Merlin staggered back in horror at where this was leading him.

"Morgana...Gaius, what can I do? How can I..." he spluttered for about a minute before Gaius cut in,

"Merlin, I cannot make this decision for you. We have both witnessed your attempt at changing the future, to be frank; we have both witnessed your complete and utter failure. There is only one way of changing the future, but I cannot tell it to you, you must find it out for yourself."

"She's evil Gaius," Merlin said, his voice weak, "I have done all I can to see the best in her, to make her better. You cannot ask me to do this." Gaius raised an eyebrow.

"I am not asking you to do anything, Merlin. I am simply stating the facts. Uther's love for his daughter will not extend to his tolerance. Either he will blindly ignore her condition and she will die, or he will kill her. The Uther who wept at her bedside is one who sees her as weak and frail. For that image of her to change – for him to feel that she had betrayed him for magic – I would fear for the Lady Morgana." Leaving Merlin to ponder over this, he began to gather up supplies for him. "Sagewort, oliander, I will put some basic medicinal herbs in but you will really need to do most of the gathering yourself." He looked at Merlin. "When the poison does strike, you will need someone with you. You will be in no state to treat yourself nor gather the things you need. I cannot tell you what you must do, I can only advise you. Don't take the horses, they will only attract attention. Just run in to the forest, eke out your supplies and head as far east as possible before the poison sets in." Merlin's eyes welled with tears as he looked at the man who had done so much for him.

"Gaius, I...thank you." The two men embraced, before the old man gestured for Merlin to go.

"My dear boy, God be with you!" Merlin took one final look at the place which had been his home, and ran off in to the night.

Merlin ran. He ran as hard as he could, until the sweat dripped down his back and his breath came out in short gasps. Because if he slowed down, he would have to make a decision. A decision he could not possibly make. If he ran, he would be well in to the forest before the regret kicked in. The wildly forming plan disintegrated in his mind as he heard something that chilled him to the very bone.

"_No, no, please help me! I – I can't breathe!" _The whimpers and moans crescendoed in to a scream and Merlin recognised the tone as the Lady Morgana's. He had heard of her nightmares from Gaius; knew of the torment they caused her – but had never imagined her screaming like that. A heartbreaking cry rang out. Merlin, without a second's hesitation, sprinted up the stairs.

Morgana tossed and turned in her chamber as the nightmare raged. She had not had a nightmare in a year, but her gold bracelet lay forgotten on her dresser. The visions came at her with a clarity they had never had before.

_It was dark. Very dark. She could feel the sweat on her brow as she panted and tried to break free. Her own body was a prison, a torture chamber. And yet the cry that escaped her lips shocked her, so guttural, so animal was it. She could hear a voice beside her._

"_Morgana, I can't hold out much longer. It has come, I can't, I can't get up, I can't. Morgana I'm sorry._

_Just, just... __**lyf suiten braeth in maydene fairne. Baren mion I praye, trouthe mortale bismotered martir asit semed mion!" **_ Morgana tossed and moaned at the sound of those words, not knowing who said them or what they would bring on her, only knowing that in the dream her heart was breaking at the sound of those words.

"_No, please..." _Morgana woke, drenched in sweat and sobbing wildly. She reached out blindly in to the darkness only to find strong, tentative arms around her, awkwardly whispering words of comfort. She clung to the presence, feeling her tears dampening his jacket. Suddenly she started to her senses, springing away from the man and preparing the incantation that would send him flying through the window.

"Stop – Morgana, it's me, Merlin." Morgana widened her eyes, and hissed,

"I don't know what you are playing at Merlin, but get the hell out of my chambers this instant! _Astride..." _she was about to send him flying in to the storm when he clapped his hand over her mouth. She struggled, twisting out of his grip before biting down on his hand. Hard. Merlin roared and pulled his hand away.

"Morgana, tonight I promise you that I come as a friend. I mean you no harm, I swear on my mother's grave." Morgana laughed bitterly,

"You never do mean me any harm, do you Merlin. Well? Where is the poison? Or have you decided to be kind and finish me off with a dagger." She watched in satisfaction as he writhed in discomfort, looking at her with loathing.

"Well, _my lady, _if you choose not to come with me, then that is your decision. I'm sure I don't care. God knows I've tried Morgana, I..." his tone softened. "My lady, both of us are in danger – the gravest of danger – if we do not leave Camelot this instant. You have to trust me, Morgana." His eyes were so earnest, his tone so pleading that she felt herself softening, despite her heart contracting in fear at his words.

'Give me one reason I should trust you Merlin." She was frightened by his intensity, although she took great pains not to show it. He groaned, knowing that he would have to do what he had put off for years now. He raised his hands and whispered.

"_Forbaernan." _The torches in Morgana's room sprung to life, allowing Morgana to catch the golden glow of Merlin's sapphire eyes. A small cry escaped her lips and her heart was numb, staring bleakly at the glowing torches. Shock and disbelief were etched on her face, as she struggled to comprehend what she had just seen.

"Morgana, the second great purge will come upon us soon. You have no choice but to trust me. If you stay here, you will die. If you come with me, there is a chance for us both." Slowly nodding, she pulled herself up, wincing at the throbbing pain in her head. Morgana would not bring herself to look at Merlin, but thrust some warm clothes in to a bag. She arched an eyebrow at Merlin.

"I must get dressed." He was shocked at the coolness of her tone. She had spoken to him in so many ways, but never had there been coldness between them. Merlin brushed off his hurt. He welcomed the change, rejoiced in it.

"As you wish, my Lady." He gave a short bow and left to wait outside the door. Worried as he was over Morgana, he could not help but feel the relief that washed over him. Part of the guilt he had felt over Morgana for so many years had been absolved; she knew of his magic and he no longer had secrets from her. A small part of him hoped that this would be a new beginning for them, that they would find the companionship – nay, love - that they had lost after he had poisoned her. But no. She was evil, the darkness to his light. It was their destiny, and no matter what Gaius said, that could not be changed. Merlin closed his eyes and sank against the door.

As the door shut behind Merlin, Morgana dropped to the floor, allowing tears to briefly well up in her eyes. Hurt, betrayal, anger coursed through Morgana's veins, and the mirror smashed in to a thousand and one pieces as her eyes glowed gold in her fury. But no. If what Merlin said was true, then she had to get to Morgause quickly. Then she could kill Merlin, and go and live with Morgause; be with the one she loved. Her features hardened in to the cold mask she had adopted just moments ago with Merlin, and she slipped on a simple shirt and trousers, tying her hair back in to a tight knot. Merlin was going to pay for hurting her like this, one way or another. In fact, why wait until she got to Morgause? Go with him in to the woods, and stab him when his back was turned. She smirked. That was the way to do it. Morgana slipped her dagger in to its sheath, stood up and prepared to go out and win Merlin's trust. She put on the sweet simper she had adopted with Uther – but found she could not bring herself to use it with Merlin. Better to be cold, silent. Grabbing her cloak, she pulled up her hood and pulled open the door. Merlin scrambled to his feet.

"Morgana...please say something. Anything?" Morgana averted her eyes, blinking fiercely. After all the times he had betrayed her and their kind, she should be used to it by now. But it still hurt.

"We should go on foot. The horses will be too easy to follow." She strode ahead of Merlin, determination etched in her forehead. Merlin pulled on a hooded cloak he had acquired, and together the pair set off in to the night.

**OK, hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will see a massive confrontation between Merlin and Morgana, and a resolution...please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, or any of the characters.**

**Oh my God, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I'm so excited about writing this now. Thank you very much all of you! OK... on with the story! **

All that night, they walked in silence, the tension between them tangible. The silence deafened the young warlock; he increased his pace, refusing to look at the young woman beside him. They reached a clearing, the blackened earth in the middle suggesting this was a common route of the Knights of Camelot. The trees bowed their branches, as if wrapping their arms around the magical pair, protecting them. Finally, she turned to Merlin.

"Explain. What is the second great purge? How did you come to know of it?" Merlin sighed.

"Uther has poisoned the water source of Camelot, poisoned it with a substance that will turn our magic against us. It will – ravage our bodies. Most victims will suffer like they would under a disease, only it would affect their minds as well as their bodies." Morgana turned to him in disgust.

"You dragged me out here because of that? I could have easily have passed it off as a sickness, a result of my injury. Uther would have lapped it up. Why Merlin? Do you ever even..." Merlin interrupted her, harshly.

"Morgana, this will not affect us in the normal way. Magic is a fragment of our souls; we were born with it. It is a part of our very beings. This substance will rip our bodies apart; tear at our souls. If I had let you remain in Camelot, you would have died, as Uther turned a blind eye, or been burned at the stake." Panting heavily, he glared at her as she took in this new piece of information. So he had been born with magic, as she had been. And yet he had never lifted a finger to help her. He had known...exactly what she had been going through. Suddenly, it hit her. This put a dent in her plans. How could she kill him when she needed someone to care for her? The boy obviously felt some sort of obligation towards her. He had...he had cared about whether she had lived or died. It was true, once she had felt something for Merlin. His kind words, his gentle but clumsy nature. But that had all changed when he had poisoned her, forcing the substance down her throat in the guise of kindness. And now he was someone different. Powerful. Dangerous. Not to be trusted. He resumed his pace, and she stood still, refusing to move. He turned around to her.

"It will take a few days to get past Camelot's borders on foot, if we are to truly escape Uther's wrath." Morgana nodded her assent. The outlying villages were mainly loyal to Uther, and would not hesitate in handing the pair in. Truth was, they had been walking for two hours and already she could feel the toll of her recent accident. Her headache had only worsened, and she felt herself lose control over her limbs. Even walking in a straight line took every ounce of her self control. Merlin looked at her in concern.

"My lady, are you alright?" He reached over to touch her arm and she recoiled,

"Get away from me! I will travel with you until we reach the Kingdom's borders, when I can contact Morgause. Until then, you are not to...you are not to..." Morgana felt the ground shift under her feet and the earth grew closer...

"Morgana!" Merlin caught her as she fell to the floor. She squirmed, hating the feeling of his hands on her. For a moment, she remembered how he had held her as she lay dying, how even as he killed her he sought her forgiveness. She stilled.

"I am fine. Honestly. I am still a little lightheaded from my injury; that is all. Pray, let us continue, Merlin." She hissed his name, spitting the words of her tongue. She tried to scramble to her feet, but Merlin held her down

"Let us set up camp for the night, Morgana. I find myself weary as well." He faked a yawn, and she glowered at him.

"Fine. If you are going to be such a weakling, we may as well. But only because you are tired." Ignoring the ringing in her ears, she stalked off to an opposite end of the clearing, retrieving the blankets she had brought with her. She allowed the tears to pool in her eyes, before curling up in the blankets. Merlin came over to her.

"Chamomile. It will help you sleep. Gaius packed it for me." Morgana turned away from him, unwilling for him to see her weakened like this. "Morgana..." his pleading tone was the final straw.

"Why Merlin. Why would you show me kindness when we both know what really lies beneath. You want me dead! You have always wished for my death, ever since you realized that I had magic. So you can stop your little act. Here." She tossed him her dagger. "I know the reason you aren't killing me right now because it is the same reason I am resisting the urge to rip your throat out with my teeth." Her eyes challenged him. "You are the most selfish man I have ever known, Merlin, despite your air of piety." Silence. His continued silence only riled her more. "Yes you are selfish! Why did you not tell me you had magic! All those nights I spent alone, afraid, terrified that I was going mad or dying. Why could you not confide in me? Was I not worthy of your great power? Was I too weak, too foolish to know of the great magic that was a part of your very soul?" She screamed at him relentlessly, beating his chest repeatedly. Finally, he roared,

"Do you think I did not want to tell you? I tried, Morgana, really I did, but I knew that one day you would become the evil sorceress that you now are! How could I tell you about my magic if one day you would use it against me, against Camelot?" Morgana narrowed her eyes.

"Fine talk, coming from you, Merlin. The only goal I seek is for magic to be restored to its rightful place in Camelot. It is you who has betrayed our kind – you are not worthy of the magic you hold. You poisoned one of your own, an innocent? You stand there, talking about the evil sorceress I have become. I am not evil! You are a traitor." Her eyes glowed golden, and she hissed the words under her breath. Merlin was catapulted backwards in to a tree, groaning in pain.

"Morgana. I – I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or cause you harm. I am bound by my destiny to protect Arthur; it is the light I have been following for so many years now. One day, Albion will be united, and magic will reign freely once more. Until then, I must turn my back on the Old Religion. Those with true insight understand, and support me. But there are those – your sister to name one – who know me only by name, and refuse to place their hopes with me." Morgana was confused.

"Morgause does not know of a Merlin who will bring back magic, only..." she gasped. "Emrys? I have often heard Morgause say the name, but..." she gazed at him in wonder, before her expression hardened. "All this time, Merlin, you have never once confided in me, as I confided in you so freely." Now the tears poured down her cheeks, and her body racked with sobs.

"So powerful, so...good..." she spat the word 'good', sarcastically, "and yet still you poisoned me. You could have found another way – we could have found another way." For the second time that night, Merlin held her close, and she leant in to him, unable to resist comfort any longer. Merlin's tears dripped down on to her, and his tone came out ragged and breathy,

"Forgive me. I was told there was no other way. I have been a pawn of destiny for too long, made too many sacrifices in her name. You were one, Morgana. You were not the first, but I swear to God you will be the last." He turned to her. "But I will not take the full responsibility for your outcome. You made your path, and I made mine. I wanted Uther dead, but to kill him would have made me just as bad as him – to do so would have destroyed everything I stood for." Morgana nodded, a new determination lighting in her eyes.

"I will not say sorry for attempting to kill Uther. I cannot, his persecution of our kind is monstrous. I understand your morals Merlin, but they are weak when Uther is drowning children out of fear and hatred. But truly I feel guilty for the wasteful murders I have committed. For those – I am sorry." Merlin pressed his forehead to Morgana's and for a moment, the two felt a connection almost as strong as that when they had been tending to Mordred. Morgana relaxed in to his arms. She would probably regret her weakness in the morning, but for now both sorcerers sought comfort in the other's embrace. Merlin pulled the blankets over them, and together they slept.

The Disir watched over the sleeping pair that night. The Disir look after their own. Ever watchful, ever vigilant, they could feel fate crumbling. Not yet. The two did not have the power to change the future yet. But soon it would come, and engulf the land. The Disir did not feel fear, or wonder. They simply watched, waiting for a new future to unfurl. But there was only one who had power over destiny. They called the being Deionae, the all seeing, the all knowing. The young sorcerers could change their futures, once they found the way, but they could not change their destinies. Only one had that power.

There was no sunlight that day in Camelot. The young sorcerers awoke to an icy morning, the dawn maiden spurning Camelot that day. The sky was a bleak grey, silvery frost settling on the branches of trees. Embarrassed to be found in the other's arms, they sprang away from each other, both of them blushing deeply. Merlin stammered something about making some food, and hunched over some wood, muttering a spell. Soon Morgana could smell the reassuring scent of woodsmoke, and she stumbled off in to the woods to find a river. As she wandered, she thought a while. Though her vengeance against Uther still burnt bright, she no longer felt the consuming hatred, which had been a part of her for so long. Instead, she felt at peace with herself. Uther was her father, that was true, but that didn't mean that Gorlois therefore wasn't. She smiled as she recalled him picking her up after a fight, always giving her a loving smile and kiss. It hurt that her mother had deceived him, but Morgana knew better than anyone else what a temptation power was. She just felt for her mother, who had loved Gorlois fiercely. How it must have hurt to lie to him and tell him that here was his daughter. Morgana did not know what had happened to her mother, only knew that once the great purge began, she had fled from the Kingdom. Her mother was but a faint memory to her, but she remembered a woman with aqua eyes and ruby red lips, with long brown hair that shimmered in the sun as she danced with Morgana around the castle grounds. Her mother had been a fiery woman, and, as Morgana had now realized, a High Priestess. God knew what had happened to her now.

Lost in thought, she finally came across a spring river. As her eyes took in the scene in front of her, she froze, before shouting,

"Merlin!" He came running, confusion in his eyes.

"Morgana, what...?" He came to a halt mid-sentence, his eyes widening with fear. What had once been a river was now black, the water spewing sparks and the flow of the water echoing the screams of children. As Merlin knelt down, Morgana said instinctively.

"Merlin, don't touch the water!" He sprang back, his face glowing as he realized his own foolishness. Morgana took a leaf and gently threw it in. Immediately it withered and died, leaving the fragile frame floating down the river. Merlin looked sheepish.

"Yeah, thanks for that." He ran his hands through his hair, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Morgana filled in.

"Merlin, what on earth is happening? This water is pure, it is – my God, it is the water source for Camelot! This runs directly to the wells." Merlin sighed.

"I read about this, in the book Gaius gave us. After months of the abuse, this is the water's protest. The king knew of this, he will have been rationing the water for months." His voice rose. "But it means that for us, time is short. We need to get out of Camelot now, before the poison takes hold of us." Morgana nodded. Together, they gathered up supplies and set off in to the woods.

The two walked slightly apart from each other, not meeting the other's eye. Something had changed between them last night, that was certain. But Merlin was hesitant. Morgana had been genuine last night, almost like the old Morgana he knew. But she had blood on her hands. She was no longer the girl he had known in his youth in Camelot. They had both now reached their twenty third winter, and had seen sides of each other they had had no idea existed. Could he build trust with someone he barely knew any more? Morgana voiced both of their thoughts.

"Merlin, I for one know that things cannot continue the way they are." She smirked at his confusion. "We are no longer the same people we were a couple of nights ago, and God knows our feelings were in a worse enough state then." She and Merlin laughed, each enjoying the presence of the other. "But then, we are no longer the people we were when we trusted each other, when we were friends." She stopped, and he clasped her hands, searching her eyes. Morgana felt slightly short of breath at the touch of his hands on hers, gazing in to the soft blue of his eyes. She whispered, "But, perhaps, Merlin, we could start again?" She gave him a small, sad smile. "I am tired of hating people Merlin. Tired of the consuming hatred that has been a part of my life for nigh on two years now. Could we not perhaps start again? Not forgetting, never forgetting – but getting to know one another?" Merlin smiled at Morgana, and kissed her forehead. He caught her scent – that of pine needles and mountain roses. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by a desire to kiss her, to hold her in his arms and whisper in her ear. But no, not now.

"Sounds like a plan!" He was greeted with a smile with genuine warmth, far from the cold smirks she had given in Camelot. Out here, with the freedom to be who she was, Morgana was shaking off the burden of deceit and betrayal and embracing the light. True she still hated Uther, and her vengeance for him would take her to dark destinations. But somehow, he accepted that, understood it was a part of her. He was surprised by the change in himself, too. Without the burden of his destiny on his back, he finally felt compassion for Morgana; understood what she was going through. And he forgave her. Thus, the biggest burden of them all rolled off his back and in to the darkness.

Gaius sat in his chambers, deep in contemplation. That morning, Uther had sent guards to the borders of Camelot, to prohibit any sorcerers trying to escape. He only hoped Merlin would get there first. He missed Merlin, with his idiotic chatter and constant moaning. If it wasn't Arthur it was Morgana, if it wasn't Morgana it was Uther...Sometimes Gaius felt like handing him a dagger and telling him to just go and slay the Pendragons rather than spending all day moaning about them. Mostly he would just listen to Merlin, chuckling to himself as he saw destiny unfolding before his very eyes. He rose from his chair, and busied himself with his herbs. As he was separating the rosemary and thyme, Gwen burst through his chamber door, panic etched in her face.

"Gaius, Morgana is missing from her chambers. I have searched everywhere for her but there is no sign of her. Uther will have my throat, he already suspects me of being a sorceress, and..." Gaius cut her ramblings short, his heart singing. So Merlin had taken Morgana with him. When he had sent Merlin out, he had given him up for dead. But with two of them...perhaps his survival was possible? In that case, he and Morgana would need all the help they could get if they were to keep Uther off their tails.

"Gwen, I want you to remain calm. Take nice, deep even breaths." Gwen nodded, breathing deeply as she hopped from one foot to another. "So, we good? Okay. Merlin and Morgana are both powerful young sorcerers who need to escape a deadly poison." Gwen stopped, confused.

"Gaius, you are making no sense. Merlin, a sorcerer? He only just learnt to tie his bootlaces." Gaius chuckled. Gwen continued, "And Morgana? Surely she could never practise..." she trailed off, as she remembered what she had glimpsed not two weeks ago. Morgana, hurrying off in to the woods with her hood pulled over her eyes. Could it be...? Gwen gasped, and backed away from Gaius.

"Why are you telling me this? How could you Gaius? Harbouring two dangerous, evil presences under Uther's nose. When I think of the number of times you could have been burnt at the stake..." she shuddered as she remembered his ordeal at the hands of the witchfinder. "Traitor," she whispered. "How could Merlin – Merlin of all people conspire against Arthur? Befriending us, pretending to be on our side whilst all the while betraying Camelot and Arthur." Gaius grabbed her wrists.

"Idiot girl, he is still the same Merlin! Magic is not a force for evil, but merely a way of life. He was born with his magic, it is a part of him, as it is for Morgana. Shame on you, Gwen, that you should say such cruel things after this discovery!" Gwen hung her head in shame, although the traces of fear were still in her eyes. "Now, as he has been so kind as to save the Lady Morgana's life, I think we owe it to them both – particularly to Morgana, who is suffering at the hands of the oaf – to protect them." He glared at Gwen. "Don't you?" She nodded. "Good. Now the question remains, how do we cover their disappearances?"

Uther knelt by the pump as he examined the water. Black, spewing filth – it was fitting, really. It was the colour of magic, the dark, evil force that had taken his darling Ygraine from him. But no more. His soldiers were examining every household, checking for those who were suffering. So far no one had been caught, but it would only be a matter of time before Camelot would be the home of the good and pure once more. He straightened his back, and winced. He wasn't as young as he once was. It had been – why, nearly twenty four years since Arthur's birth, was it really that long ago? Twenty four years of battle, of war. But finally, that war was coming to an end. The people of Camelot would be free of misery and torment, he was sure. Once the scum of Camelot were removed, then their wars would cease and food would be plentiful again. It was the sorcerers who caused these atrocities, did them to spite him after his tireless work against magic. Well. Soon he would have his reward. He glanced at the earth, frowning. Even through the ice, he could see the peculiar colour – the soil was stained a dark red. Uther shrugged, dismissing it. Probably some new fertilizer his farmers were using. He smiled, and went back to his chambers. Perhaps he would pay a visit to Morgana, see how she was getting on.

Morgana and Merlin stumbled ahead, forced back by the sheer magnitude of the wind. It had been raging for two days, and the young sorcerers were more than a little weary. They had had no rest, after the discovery of the water, and were frozen to the bone. Morgana's teeth chattered in her head whilst Merlin's ears had gone bright red and had icicles hanging off them. Midwinter was approaching, and the weather had declined rapidly since the great storm. Now great snowstorms wreaked havoc on Camelot, and it had a less than positive impact on the tempers of the two.

"You're treading on my cloak," muttered Merlin, darkly.

"Oh I beg your pardon humbly, Almighty Emrys. In future I shall stay ten yards away from the presence of the hem of your cloak." Morgana sneered, through chattering teeth. Merlin glared at her, regretting for the hundredth time telling her about his powers.

"You know, I am this close to perfecting the silencing spell Gaius taught me on you. Believe me, it's powerful." Morgana rolled her eyes.

"Oh please. Even with your pathetic silencing spell on you I could throw you back with one flick of my wrist." Demonstrating, her eyes glowed golden and her hand outstretched. Merlin braced himself for a thorough beating – he may be the most powerful sorcerer alive, but no one could blast someone back like Morgana could. The sheer skill, strength it took – truthfully, Merlin was a bit jealous. It had taken him five years to bring that spell up to standard, whereas it came to Morgana naturally. Suddenly, Morgana let out a cry, clutching her stomach and breathing sharply. Merlin immediately rushed over to her.

"Morgana!" she waved away his offers of help, getting off her knees and staggering. Morgana's face was pale, and she was unsteady on her feet.

"My magic...it hurt. When I used it. Like being stabbed, but not in my body." She looked at Merlin in fear. "Merln, what is happening to me?" Merlin froze in horror. Quickly, he took off his pack and found the scroll Gaius had given him.

"This was written by a wise women, not much affected by the poison and thus able to survive the Sarren's purge. It says – that it begins with your magic receding on itself, so you will be unable to use it. To attempt to will cause some pain." Morgana snorted.

"Some pain! Merlin, I honestly thought someone had stabbed me." Merlin's eyes were fearful as he looked at her.

"Morgana – I cannot predict what will happen to us. But all I know is that the poison has begun to take a hold on your body, Probably mine also, although I don't want to attempt using magic. We need to get you to a clearing, we are nearly in Essetir but I doubt either of us will hold out that long. Just...I don't know what to do!" Merlin shouted in frustration, tearing at his hair. Morgana reached up and stroked his cheek, trying to erase the fear etched in his face. He clenched his teeth. "Morgana, in all likelihood you will die, and I will follow soon after if not before. And there is nothing I can do! I am not a healer." Morgana took a deep breath, instinct kicking in.

"Well then, let's make the most of the time we have." And with that, she stood up on tiptoe and kissed Merlin's lips, softly. Before he had time to register anything, she had gone off in to the woods in search of a clearing, her heart beating fast at what she had just done.

**Tada! This is officially the longest chapter I have ever written – please tell me if you want shorter ones, this is only my second story EVER so I am still experimenting.**

**Next chapter will see some lighter comedy, Arthur's and Gwen's' reaction (With a little Arwen...) and a little Mergana cuteness. But that is all the lightness you're getting because it will get so much darker from here...thanks for reviewing as always – I love you guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Just a few notes.**

**First of all, thank you thank you thank you! This is only my second story and my first one for Merlin, I never expected to have so many reviews! Argh I'm sorry to gush but it's true. PLEASE keep reviewing, especially if you don't like my fic or think it could be improved – I hate to sound like a teacher but this is all experience.**

**I won't mention names, as all of you have been amazing, but there was a guest review who I couldn't PM who gave me some really good advice on characters, and helped me when I was a bit stuck. So if you review again, please leave a name or something so I can thank you properly. **

**Anyway, the story. I was a bit concerned after writing this in case some of my audience are a bit squeamish – there is the tiniest bit of medical gore in there – but nothing too disturbing for a T-fic – I am fourteen, and I wouldn't have written it if it upset me. But this fic is about to take a bit of a darker turn...**

**By the way, just to clear up a bit of confusion readers might face, although this will be explained formally in the story a few chapters on. Whilst some are born with the potential to do magic, they must study it first to hone it. For Merlin and Morgana, their magic is inherent, so they can cause incredible things to occur simply by feeling something very strongly, or using their powers telepathically. The poison targets anyone with the potential to do magic, but the weaker or less developed your magic is, the weaker the attack is.**

**That's a brief summary, hopefully you gathered it from the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, or any of the characters. **

Morgana stopped still in her tracks, her back to Merlin. _What had she done? _Just a few weeks ago she would have been happy if his heart had been served to him on a platter, now she was _kissing him. _It felt – wrong. Morgana breathed a sigh of relief as she acknowledged that to herself. She didn't have much experience with comforting people. She hugged Gwen when her father had died, but had simply channeled all her emotions in to taking revenge on Uther. Morgana just wasn't used to that. Her mother hadn't really been the comforting sort, she would just sit with Morgana until the pain went away. In a way, that had been nice, just having her mother near her. Just – there. Her father – Gorlois – on the other hand, would take her mind off of whatever was troubling her. The day her mother left, he took her on his horse and they rode off in to the woods together whilst Morgana was still numb. She wasn't sure how long they had stayed together, just riding manically over streams, through the thickest of copses, just long enough for Morgana to cry her eyes out until she thought her heart would break. Then he had taken her home, and told her stories of the battles he had fought until she fell asleep. But she couldn't very well do that then. For one thing she didn't have a horse. So she had held him. He was fighting a losing battle, but he was fighting it for her. And yes, his face had been very close. And she had kissed him. But she was training to be a high priestess – these feelings were forbidden for the initiates. More than that, this wasn't Merlin, the irritating servant who she had loved and trusted until his betrayal, this was _Merlin, _the powerful sorcerer who was bound to destiny – as they both were. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had wanted to make him feel better, that wasn't the right way to do it. She had made a mistake, and now she was confused, that was all. They had agreed to start again, agreed to put their troubles in the past, but she was just not ready for all the memories it brought. Did she – could she? But no, how could she ever feel anything when what existed was already so fragile. He had not moved. Shell-shocked. Idiot boy. Finally, she snapped at him.

"Oh for God's sake Merlin, pull yourself together. You were panicking; I stopped you. We cannot afford for you to lose your head at the merest sign of...of symptoms. Yes there is a possibility I might die. There is a possibility you might also die. Everyone with magic has been marked for death. But better to die out here in the woods, than to face death from Uther's sword. That is everyone else's sentence. Now are you going to stay with me or am I going to continue alone in to Essetir?" He still refused to move; his position could only be described as rigor mortis. Morgana rolled her eyes. This was going to be so much harder if he was going to be like this. "Merlin, if I hadn't been in such agony from my attempt to use magic, I would have slapped you. Got it?" Not strictly true, but it did the intended job. Merlin gave a relieved smile and mumbled,

"Got it. We need to find somewhere to shelter whilst the effects of the poison take place. Suggestions?" Morgana smiled, a memory coming to her.

"Oak trees. You can shelter in them during storms, the druids hollow out alcoves in them for altars; the oak tree being the sacred tree. It's how my father met my mother; sheltering from a storm inside the same oak tree. So long as you ask permission, the trees will not begrudge you shelter." Morgana's mind began to cloud with pain, each breath harder to draw than the last. Merlin did not notice, scouting the forest for a suitable oak.

"I'm assuming you know the prayer." Morgana frowned. It was harder to concentrate when you were trying to stay conscious. Each word came out slowly and deliberately, whilst Merlin remained oblivious to her suffering. She was met by a fierce longing to be with her sister again, to be held and loved. Anything to ease the pain. Where was she? Why wasn't she here?

"Of course I do, of course, I just can't...Merlin where is Morgause? Should we not be trying to get to her, she will help us! Merlin, we are saved! I do not know how to contact her, but she knows how to find me, I am sure of it."

Merlin closed his eyes.

"No." Morgana looked up, sharply, wincing discreetly.

"No? Merlin, there is no need to be afraid of her; she is the dearest person in the world to me. And I would never let her hurt you again, she merely wishes to see a Camelot ridded of the vile serpent who sits on its throne." Merlin drew a deep breath.

"I refuse to approach the woman who – corrupted your innocence – with her malevolent practice. I will not seek help from a high priestess who thinks only of self gain. Her senseless acts of war have killed people, innocent people. I thought you had repented of the lives you took." Her mouth hardened in to a thin line.

"That is the most... are you condemning my sister, the one who sacrificed everything she had to save me from death – a death you would have caused? Just because she isn't willing to stand by and watch as our followers are decimated, our people are tortured and killed, even babies. " She arched an eyebrow. "She wishes to overthrow the tyrant who orphaned us, who drove our mother in to hiding and lead her to her death. Is she to be punished for that?"

"Morgana, there is a difference between rebellion and revenge. What Morgause was doing was attacking the innocent to get at Uther, allowing her own bitterness to overcome what was good, what was right. Sound familiar, Morgana?" the sarcasm tripped off his tongue, and he regretted it the minute it came out. Morgana stepped back in shock, her face creasing with hurt. Her speech began to slur, but the vehemence in her tone remained.

"Merlin, I thought we agreed to put our differences aside. To, to..." She narrowed her eyes. He was going out of focus, her rage increasing the pounding in her head.

"To think that I even thought you could accept the path I have chosen to take." She snorted. "I was stupid, naïve. You just can't change some people. I just thought, Merlin, I thought that..." Suddenly, her face drained of all its colour, and she stood swaying for a minute. Merlin frowned.

"Morgana, are you alright?" No answer. She simply stood there, her lips slightly apart. Merlin ran to her and began shaking her gently, stammering with fear and dread. "Morgana, please, stay with me! Come on, please – I'm sorry. I really am I never meant – if you hadn't...Morgana!" His voice rose as he begged her to respond, to give him some sign. Her eyes suddenly glowed golden, and she screamed, a tortured scream that pierced Merlin's soul.

"Morgana!" his cry was lost in her agonizing wails.

"Help me, Merlin, please, help." Brief breaks of sobbing interrupted her screams, as she collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony. My God. It was happening. First the body, then the mind, and as Merlin could only guess, the soul. Crimson blood poured out of her mouth as she heaved and retched, Merlin watching, helpless. He rushed to support her, to hold her as she vomited, but almost immediately her eyes rolled back in to her head and she began jerking violently, seizing up before her limbs flailed, fighting some invisible presence. Some sort of fit, Merlin did not know. She tossed and turned from side to side, sweating profusely and still screaming, her voice cracking with the volume of each tormented wail. Tears streamed down Merlin's face as he begged her to wake up, but all in vain. Her screams died as she lost her voice, and only whimpers came, but her seizure only increased in aggression. Quickly, like a thief in the night, he scooped her up in his arms and ran with her, to find one of the oaks she had talked about. Somewhere to shelter from the evergoing snow, though his thoughts did not lie with the cold in his bones. He struggled to hold her as her body and limbs convulsed, but he staggered on. He tried to create a path in the snow using his magic, and was met with the same stabbing sensation Morgana had described. It was Hell; it was as if his thoughts, his memories and feelings had been invaded, torn. Feelings he had buried for nigh on three years poured through the hole and left him confused. Feelings of desperate love and protection for the young girl in his arms. Oh God, it was happening to him too. How long did he have left? An hour? Morgana had not used her magic for well over a day before her attempt, so he had almost no way of predicting how long it would be. But he had to find some way, somehow. He owed it to Morgana.

Gwen washed her face, carefully tucking strands of hair behind her forehead. Yet another morning doing Gaius's bidding. At first it had seemed like an adventure, now it was just a chore. She groaned as she heard the sharp rapping at her door.

"Gwen, are you up yet? Uther wants to see Morgana again." Gwen muttered to herself as she ran to the door.

"No, no, no, NO!" She yelled, as she opened the door to Gaius. "Honestly, this cannot go on any longer. Sooner or later, he is going to wonder why Morgana isn't getting any better. I am fed up with... I mean, I will not... that is," Gaius grinned as she realized how rude she had been to a senior member of the court. Gwen ducked her head and mumbled,

"Sorry Gaius." Gaius chuckled,

"Your apology can wait, Gwen. Put on the wig and the nightdress, and I'll see you in Morgana's bedroom." She grimaced, giving him a baleful look. He sighed. "Alright, Gwen, I understand. I'll think of something to get Morgana out of the way. Just be prepared to go to some...extreme lengths." Gwen screamed in frustration, before slamming the door on Gaius and unfastening her nightdress.

Uther knocked on Morgana's chamber door, his expression solemn. Gaius opened it a crack, fearful of letting any light in.

"You may come in now, my Liege. Remember, any attempt to get too close to her could cause major distress on her part, and could even send her...melinus narymph in to failure." Uther nodded, frowning at the serious nature of it all. Every time he had been to visit Morgana these past few days, one of her vital organs or muscles would go in to failure if he so much took a step nearer. The room had to be kept pitch black, and he could only make out the faint outline of Morgana's hair and nightdress. He longed to stroke her hair and sit by her bedside as he had done when she had hovered at death's door. But no. His darling child – no ward, if he did not keep up the pretence to himself he had no hope of keeping it up to others – was suffering. And he would not prolong it. Terror had gripped him when Gaius had mentioned that fateful word, complications. He had been taken right back to that day when he had ran to Alice and asked her why he wasn't being admitted in to Ygraine's birthing chamber. Why he wasn't allowed to see his son. And he remembered her grief, the torment in her face as she told him,

'There were complications.' So when Gaius had told him that 'Morgana was facing complications from her recent injury,' he had wept at both the present and past hurt. But Gaius gave him hope. Soon she would recover, and everything would go back to normal. No, better than normal, for it would be a Camelot cleansed of magic. Even now, sorcerers were collapsing on the street and quickly killed by his soldiers. All those who missed work or stayed at home complaining of illness were immediately executed. Even the children. Those who faced ague, or stomach sickness got up and worked in fear of their lives. The state of fear Camelot was plunged in to, it was regrettable. But he lived for the day when the last stinking sorcerer would be wiped from Camelot, and he, Arthur and Morgana would ride out, hand in hand in to a golden age. He turned to Gaius.

"There must be something I can do, Gaius. I would do anything for my – my little girl. You of all people should know that ." Gaius hesitated, a plan rapidly forming in his head.

"Do you remember Gorlois's half sister, Anna?" Uther nodded.

"Of course, she was Igraine's aunt by marriage. She lives in Aquitaine I believe." Gaius cursed inwardly. So Uther did remember her.

"My lord, I believe it would be beneficial for Morgana's health to get out of the kingdom for a while. Get some sun on her. I have taken the liberty of writing to Anna and informing her of Morgana's accident. She has written back saying that she would like to take Morgana to her castle in for a while. To get her away from the snow and ice of Camelot and get some sun on her." Gaius contained a smile as he remembered Anna's real letter...

_Dear Gaius,_

_Gracious God it's been long enough. Uther still on the rampage? He always was a tyrant, I said to Ygraine, 'Niece, the more I see that young husband of yours, the more I admire dogs.' I've got my own one now, of course, and five children. Always was interested that I had a niece._

_So you need me to play along in your little game do you? Pretend my dear niece is having a nice little stay with her aunt? Well, I never could resist a bit of sport with Uther Pendragon. Don't worry your little head about it, I'll sort everything out. I remember now – Morgana was always a pretty little thing, she'll do all right, I'm sure. So like Gorlois in her mannerisms. There was a bit too much of her mother in her for my tastes though, and I never did get on with Vivianne. Stubborn wench. There was a bit too much of someone else in her too, although of course I never could have told Gorlois that. _

_I'll write to Uther asking his permission, but I can't wait for the hoax to commence. Perhaps we should have Uther visit his 'ward' in Aquitaine; then the real fun will begin! Just joking. Wouldn't want your heart to go, not when you're in your prime._

_How is Alice? Your last letter didn't say. I'm assuming that you two are married now, you were keen enough when I was last in Camelot! _

_Good cheer,_

_Anna_

The last part of her letter had brought him pain, but he had brushed it off. All in the past now, all forgotten. The only hope was in the future – in future love and future unity. He observed Uther as he pondered over the facts. Uther was frowning. Something, somewhere didn't quite make sense.

"But for the past few days she has only required darkness. Now I must send her to a place with sun?" Gaius froze, squinting heavily with his left eye, a sign of immense concentration.

"Now she is moving on to the next stage in her...complications. Now she needs as many nutrients as possible. Think of Morgana's complications like wine, sire. She has been kept in the dark, and now must quickly be brought back in to the light. Hem hem...complications!" Gaius hoped that by saying complications enough he could frighten Uther in to doing his bidding. And it worked like a charm. Uther spoke quickly, half running out of the room.

"Anything, Gaius, anything. I just want to hear her voice again." Uther strode out of the room and in to the dark winding corridors leading to his chambers.

Merlin sat in the alcove for a long time. He had found it easily, and had laid Morgana down to rest in the blankets. Her fit had subsided long ago, and she lay there, still and white. Occasionally she would scream, long and hard as if all the bones in her body were being snapped one by one. Sometimes her eyes would glow golden and her screams would become more excruciating. Her magic was working from the outside inwards, and had already begun to attack her mind. Suddenly she sat up sharply, and Merlin rushed to her side.

"Morgana? Morgana can you hear me?" She whimpered.

"The time is upon us! The time of fire and ice, the time when the earth will weep blood. And it is only the beginning. No, no please stop! Stop them somebody – they're burning! I'm burning! Everything is white, my thoughts I – Sister I am burning! Morgause, my nightmares –why Morgause, why would Merlin...My thoughts, my sight, all is consumed by the white. Merlin help me! Water, I need water, I – no Arthur, do not trust him! Do not go near him, get away! The boy – the girl? Sophia, Mordred, which one are you? My head, it burns! I cannot think, but the light and the dark cannot live together, nor can the light burn so bright without the darkness of night." She rambled on, fragments of the old language in her speech. She began to hum snatches of songs, laughing frantically before screaming for her mother, for her sister, for Merlin. Merlin tried to hold her, to comfort her, but she did not know this world, she was not conscious, although her eyes were wide open. By her thoughts he could tell that for her, the present was blending with the past and future. Her voice rose in pitch until she let out a high pitched wail, banging her head against the tree, trying to alleviate the pain.

Finally, after seven long and painful hours she lay down, and the attack on her mind became internalized. Each of those hours brought fresh pain for Merlin, whose face twisted with tears as he watched her suffer. How he hated Uther, how he wished he could twist his bones, cause such excruciating pain that Uther could begin to faintly understand what he and Morgana were going through. He slept but brokenly, every time his eyes closed, despite his fierce protest, a new round of screaming would jolt him awake. He gathered herbs for her, aconite, belladonna, and oleander. All deadly substances, anything to release her senses from the grip of the poison. He could not call it a poison. Though it was a coward's weapon, its grip over Morgana caused a myriad of suffering that no poison could hope to obtain. She could not hope to survive this, nothing he did could help her. The torment etched in her face was pitiful to observe, but he could not take his eyes off of her. Every scream, every wail drew her further from him, and he could only sit there and pray for her soul. That when the final torment came, her soul would be delivered quickly. Merlin had never been religious, relying on the wisdom of his mother as his moral compass. There had been a beautiful shrine to the Virgin in his village, but it had never meant that much to him, just something to appease the King of Essetir. Now he prayed, not to a God put to the powers of the earth and heavens. Thinking of the heavens, a thought struck him and he jumped to his feet. Kilgarrah – of course! He could summon the great dragon; his healing powers were unmatched. He would have to heal Morgana, wouldn't he? Merlin roared in to the night,

"**O dragun! To ben holden dign of reveraen! Ycome fromen yon viage, seke I oute, to ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes!" **Merlin collapsed to the floor, gasping at the sheer pain of summoning the dragon. His time was upon him; he could feel it. He could not – breathe. Each breath was more difficult than the last, until he thought he would pass out from the pain of filling his lungs. Silence. He waited in agony, wondering if his call had not reached the great dragon. He brushed Morgana's hair behind her ears and stroked her cheek, tears filling his eyes. He noticed large, black blotches marring her scalp, spreading all the way down to her collarbone. 'I'm sorry Morgana, so, so sorry," he thought, desperately hoping that she could hear him. At that moment he heard a great beating of wings, and Kilgarrah descended on him.

Arthur paced the throne room, his wrath increasing with each step. He had seen atrocities in his time. He had seen the merciless slaughter from Uther's solders when he was fifteen, and had heard the whimpers of dying women and children. It had been Hell, and he had simply stood by and watched it happen. But no more. Today was the day that Arthur Pendragon became a man, and confronted the evil staring him in the face. He looked up sharply as Uther entered the room, mentally preparing himself for what he had to say.

"Arthur," Uther acknowledged his son, barely glancing at him.

"Father I..." Arthur faltered, and shook himself. "Father, today our soldiers killed a little girl who fainted in the street. Killed her, on the spot. Please, tell me you did not sanction this." Uther took a goblet from his table and drank deeply.

"Did they check her scalp?" Arthur looked at his father in horror.

"Father - you cannot tell me that you have justified this – yes they looked for marks, but they were so small they could have been freckles. Her mother swears they were freckles, but her daughter has been taken from her. These people are not even receiving a trial. Why, father, what could possibly justify this?" Uther narrowed his eyes, setting down his goblet and looking his son squarely in the eyes.

"I have a duty, Arthur. A duty that one day will become yours – to protect our people from the evils that threaten them. The evil of sorcery is one you cannot possibly comprehend, because you have not lived amongst it, been forced to breathe its repugnant stench. I have the chance to rid this kingdom from it once and for all, and nothing should escape through the cracks. Do you not see how once the filth is cleansed from Camelot, we can begin a new, golden age." Arthur started in anger, rage clouding his vision as he heard the foul words spat from the mouth of the man he looked up to above all others.

"Your fear of sorcery blinds you, father. This is mindless, ruthless slaughter, and God shall bring you to justice even if I cannot. Whatever evil the sorcerers have done, this is genocide! Yes, I was not alive during before the great purge, but I know that sorcerers and ordinary folk lived in harmony, were neighbours and friends. If you continue this act of persecution, your people will merely fear you, and hate you. And what about the kingdoms where they allow magic to be practiced freely? Will they not wage war on us, on the crimes we are committing? Father, I urge you to desist. It is not too late, many will recover from the poison. Please." Uther stalked menacingly towards his son and without warning punched him, hard. Arthur reeled from the blow, falling on to the hard stone floor, his lip splitting and bleeding heavily.

"In the war I am fighting there is no room for compromise. No room for conditions or mercy. You dare to question by judgement, my authority? We have closed the borders and placed guards there. Our prisons are filled so now anyone who has developed the black marks on their necks is killed instantaneously. Those are my terms. I can only pray that one day you will understand." Uther gazed coldly at his son before sweeping out of the room, his cloak brushing Arthur's face. Arthur lay there, moaning. He would not let himself cry, no matter how much his father's wrath hurt him. But as he nursed his lip, he saw a rustling behind the curtain. He scrambled to his feet.

"Who is there? I swear by Christ that if you breathe a word..." he stammered to a halt as the figure emerged. Gwen. "Oh By Our Lady," he moaned, and walked over to her. Gwen's beautiful brown eyes filled with tears as she saw his pain, and she gently took her handkerchief out and dabbed at his face.

"You'll have a bruise there." Arthur smiled at her briefly, and she continued. "You were right to say what you said, Arthur, no matter what. Your father has lost his way, but that is no excuse for the murder of innocents." Arthur put his head in his hands,

"Guinevere, I cannot fight him on my own. Yes I long to do something to help those who suffer under my father's hand, but what is there – I just don't know." Gwen brushed away her tears, her eyes filling with a new sense of purpose.

"You will never fight him alone, Arthur. I am here, I will always be here, no matter what we face, we face it together. And I know a way we can help." Arthur looked up, hope faint in his eyes. Gwen continued, "If we set up camps on the outskirts of Camelot, refugee camps, then mothers can send children, anyone who needs space to recover from the poison can stay there, and we can get sufferers over the border. Don't you see?" Arthur got to his feet and swept Gwen off her feet, swinging her around. She laughed hysterically, pleased at the sudden transformation in him. As he put her down, she realized how close they were, and stepped back, her brow creased. Arthur, oblivious, said,

"Guinevere you beauty! Of course we'll need supplies, and a physician, although from what I remember you are pretty good. I'm sure Gaius will comply, he must be feeling the effects of the poison himself." Arthur recalled Gaius's pained stance earlier, and brushed the thought away. "No we mustn't bother Gaius, not at this time. It's a shame Hunith is so ill, or Merlin could help, but...but we can send those who are ill to Merlin and he can help us cure them, or provide them with safety." Arthur continued to plan, even going so far as to find one of the maps and plot the location of their camp. Gwen bit her lip. This was getting more complicated by the second. She could only imagine Arthur's reaction when he found Hunith in perfect health and minus Merlin. But as she gazed at the man she loved, absorbed in the intricacies of their plan, she knew that where he went, she would follow.

**Woah, long chapter. Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello loyal followers! I am – so sorry about the update date, but you know how busy things get over Christmas – I hope you had a good one!**

**Thanks once again to my reviewers – you really are my motivation, and I will start naming people because I really do value the time you spend on my story! **

**Thank you very much mondeuz022, Iricious, That-is-illogical, TimothyRiddle and for reviewing my last chapter – you all left very constructive and lovely comments, and you helped me keep going when I was getting disheartened!**

**Thank you Sunny and Tinkerbell90 for – just being epic and reviewing regularly. It means a lot xD**

**OK on with the story – and please keep reviewing! I have a sort of vague idea of where the story is going, but I'm still lost and conflicted. Kind of like Morgana.**

Deep in the Great Seas of Meredor lay an island, enshrouded by mist. It was not obvious at first, but appeared slowly over the horizon, mysterious and terrible in its grandeur. A ruin, forgotten by the hearts of men and eventually by time itself. Yet it was not always so. One remained there, consumed by memories of a better time. Her name was Morgause, and her heart was sick with fear. The woman was near frantic with it, pacing the stone floors of the ruin, which was close to a home for her. Morgause had known happy times here, had loved here. The women who had been like mothers to her, giving their hearts and minds for her to learn from and love. Yet as she grew up she noticed that there was an element of sadness in the priestesses. All knew that a dark age was coming, that the old ways would be lost, buried deep within the isle. Morgause had not believed that something so evil could happen at the time, but she had been mistaken, so terribly mistaken. She had prayed, as had all, for their deliverance, and the high priestesses had taught her who to pray to. The Deionaee. Worshipped in many ways, his hand molded the path people would take. Those of the trinity called him God, worshipped his messengers, those who sang his songs of creation and rebirth. Those of the old ways feared him, chose to worship his power through the elements, through the cycle of life and death. Through the Goddess, she who was mistress of his creations. The Deionaee was neither man or woman, but a power too enormous for earthly beings to comprehend. And he had had plans for Morgause. To be Morgana's mentor, to guide her in the ways of the dark, just as Gaius's destiny was to guide Merlin through the light. The Deionaee was not good or bad, only his messengers had that privilege. The Deionaee only cared about the balance, of keeping the world in balance. And she was his dedicated servant, bound to his will, to the will of the Disir. She had learnt in the most painful way that no one can fight destiny, because destiny is not the writing on the wall, or the telling of what is to come. That was the part that fate played. And fate could be bent, could be twisted until you could convince yourself that you had changed destiny too. Destiny was the essence of life, the guiding force, the framework of time. Fate and destiny were closely interlocked, but only one decided destiny.

Morgause's eyes became haunted as she thought of the evil Uther had done to her people. She remembered in particular one night, when a druid settlement had been set alight at dusk, and the entire population burnt. She had heard the screams, felt the blaze of the flames cut in to her cheek like a knife, stinging her eyes. Morgause had seen the charred, black bodies of children, still clutching the burnt remains of toys and rattles. But she hadn't cried. She didn't know how to cry. All the priestesses had taught her was to hate, and that she did with a rage so violent that she knew that when the moment came, she would happily look Uther in his snake like eyes and plunge a dagger in to his breast. That she would watch as the life ebbed from him and every breath became more painful. Because he had destroyed her kind, destroyed everything she loved. He had probably destroyed her sister. Morgause had always had a vague knowledge of having a little sister, but had not been prepared for the immediate affection and almost maternal love she felt for Morgana. How she would do anything to see her little sister happy, despite the difference in their bringing up. Morgause should have been jealous, should have hated Morgana for knowing and loving their mother, a luxury Morgause had never been privy to. But how could she, when she had seen Morgana and immediately known that their kinship was strong enough to break Uther's violent regime. When she had held Morgana, dying, in her arms. That had been the first time she cried, and the last. No one deserved the luxury of making a priestess of the old religion cry, least of all a mere servant boy. And she knew that by teaching Morgana to be fearless, to feel no crippling pity and remorse, she could help her achieve her true identity. But now she was frightened, almost desperate with the images that flashed through her mind. Morgana had not responded to her ever more urgent messages, and she had already been concerned when she had heard the news. That Uther had defiled the water source with poison. Morgause knew how this would affect Morgana, knew that she would die if she was not helped. But she had no means of getting to her. Was Morgana still in Camelot? Or had she escaped, found a way of getting in to the woods. But the cold and ice had been spreading throughout Camelot, and images of a frozen Morgana lying dead on the floor haunted her. Morgause closed her eyes, and attempted to find Morgana one more time. For the few hours, she had been trying to call Morgana telepathically, but had been met only with silence. She summoned all her strength and called out,

_**Sister! Morgana my darling can you hear me? Where are you? **_For a moment there was silence, yet Morgause held the connection, hoping she would hear something, anything that she could use to find her sister. Suddenly she heard screaming, loud, piercing screams that echoed in her mind. She heard fragments of songs and spells before the screams took hold, though one message was clear throughout her tortured wails.

_**Merlin? Morgause, where are you? I can't think – I can't see. Find – find me. Find me. Why aren't you coming, Morgause? **_For a moment Morgause sat there, frozen in shock and horror at the sounds of her sister's tortured mind, at the relentless attack it was under. She soon brought herself out of her horrified reverie, and cried,

"_**Coniectoen in engleymen emysphery!" **_ In her mind's eye she saw her sister screaming, convulsing on the floor whilst a man tended to her, attempting to revive her. Morgause knew not where they were, or who the man was, she could only see the back of his head. But she knew she would find them

Kilgarrah descended on to the snow and gazed coldly at Merlin, his amber eyes hardened with anger.

"So, young warlock, you have defied me once more. I am to understand you have saved the witch's life yet again. Does Albion mean nothing to you? Are the warnings I give merely words to you?" Merlin ducked his head; his mind conflicted. Kilgarrah's voice continued to rise in anger, his rage throbbing through the forest and pounding in Merlin's head, a power he could not comprehend rising inside of him. "Evil is marked in her, enscribed with power far beyond your understanding. You dare to disobey me? You dare to think that a fledgling sorcerer such as yourself is more powerful than destiny? More powerful than the old religion itself?" Merlin shook his head, and roared,

"Silence! Kilgarrah, I know she will not change. I know that her hatred of Uther is blinding her, and I know that that hatred will not recede. But how can I let her die? How can I sit here and watch the life drain out of her, watch her soul be ripped until she cannot scream any more? There must be some way that I can save her, we can find another way!"

"There is no other way, Warlock. Morgana Pendragon is destined to die at your hand, and nothing you can do will change that. I understand you have given her Oliander and Hemlock, to make the end approach sooner?" Merlin nodded, aghast at how he had unwittingly played in to destiny's hands. "I hope you now understand the hopelessness of your case, the futility of your pathetic attempt to bring Morgana towards the light. You cannot fight destiny Merlin, it is the inevitable, the foretold. Merlin clenched his teeth.

"I would rather burn in Hell for a thousand years than see her die in this way, Kilgarrah. Now tell me, what can we do?" Kilgarrah's enormous amber eyes took Merlin in, gouging his fearful expression, the way in which his rough and callused hand inadvertently stroked Morgana's pale cheek.

"You love her," Kilgarrah stated, simply. Merlin's eyes widened in shock. No, he felt nothing but anger to the woman who had nearly brought down Camelot in her rage. But as her slowly ebbing breath faltered and she gave a soft moan as her own magic poisoned her, blackened her mind and robbed her of all reason, he could not bring himself to deny it any longer.

"More than I could have thought possible," he said clearly and calmly, whilst his mind was anything but. And as he allowed his love for her, so tender and sweet yet laced with tears, bitter memories and foretellings, he experienced a pain of the like he had never felt before. It came slowly, softly, but as it increased the pain became a weight, dragging him to his knees. Kilgarrah snarled in fury as he watched Merlin's agony.

"So the rumours are true, then? Uther has unleashed the full might of the Aether down on his kingdom."

"What the hell is this, why did you not tell me of it before?"

"You cannot foretell the use of Aether – for it is a substance far beyond the knowledge of the most insightful of seers and the wisest of sages. I understand you have always been taught that the four elements are at the heart of the old religion and of magic?" Merlin nodded. "Well, at the heart of the four elements is the Aether, which birthed fire, air, earth and water. It formed a great lake in the kingdom of Heaven, from which the Deionaee created his messengers." Merlin interrupted, impatient.

"Who is the Deionaee? What does this have to do with the poison?" The Great Dragon glared at him, insulted.

"I see once again that your ignorance knows no bounds. The Deionaee is something far beyond what you can comprehend. Some would call him God, but he is far greater than many would have you believe. He wrote the story of the world, and watches it grow. Now if you will let me go on? Good. As I was saying, the Deionaee created his messengers from the Aether, the Christ child, the prophets, the disir, all who bear the Deionaee's light come from there. But the wicked sorcerer, Lokindane, once a trusted messenger, stole some to achieve immortality. As it touched his filthy hands, a small spring sprung on earth. No life could grow around it, nothing with magic in could thrive. The liquid in it was putrid, black. Only the truly soulless have ever come there, but when they do, it is as if their feet have sought that path of their own accord. Uther Pendragon has done more harm than he could have ever predicted by corrupting a water source with its pestilence." Merlin absorbed this quietly, struggling to take in the facts set before him. Suddenly, he asked,

"When I feel my love for Morgana, it hurts – it attacks me. Why would this be?" The Old Dragon pondered upon this for a while, before answering,

"Because Aether is evil, it cannot understand anything as pure as love, or magic, so it corrupts it, turns it on itself. Your love, like your magic, holds the weight of fate in itself, and is a force to be reckoned with. You see, most sorcerers are not as affected because their magic is not pure, it is addled, tainted by the methods used in learning it. Morgana and yourself, young warlock, have pure elemental power running through your veins and bonds of pure love – yourself for Arthur and Morgana for Mordred. And now you have found love for each other – as it turns on itself, the stronger it is, the more it will tear you apart. And in the case of the witch, good riddance."

"Before she succumbed – before her magic overpowered her, I hurt her, badly. I made her think that I thought she was evil, not to be trusted. Did that – did that contribute?" The dragon tilted his head to one side, malice sewn in to his voice.

"Your love for each other is embedded with pain and fear. You made her feel it acutely – you brought on the attack quicker than it would have done had you kept your thoughts to yourself. Well done, young warlock. Perhaps you are learning."

"No, no it was an accident! You dare – you dare-"

"Yes I dare young warlock! Whilst there may come a day when your power exceeds mine, that day is not upon us, and I may speak my mind." Merlin stood stock still, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"You forget that you are speaking to a dragon lord, Kilgarrah!" Merlin intonated, dangerously. He raised his hands and bellowed. "It hurts me to do this, Kilgarrah, but I know you to be too great a slave of destiny to help me of your own will."

"I cannot help the witch, it is beyond my power" Kilgarrah screeched. Merlin's eyes flashed amber, and clenching his teeth at the pain, which once again fell on to his back as a heavy weight would.

"Then it appears I have no choice. _**Bøye til min vilje ohm stor drage, for du er svak i mitt nærvær. Hjelpe meg, i min søken etter frelse!**_" At once the dragon sank to his knees, shaking with rage, his amber eyes bright with fury.

"Very well, young dragon lord. But one day, I shall serve a bond far higher, that shall break this one as I snap twigs beneath my talons. Then, you shall not command me with the arrogance that you now."

"Just tell me, Kilgarrah." Merlin snarled, his eyes flashing not with magic, but with anger. Kilgarrah sighed.

"The Lady Morgana is under a deep magical influence – her own. Her pure, elemental magic is attacking her. But fire must be fought with fire. Quite literally in this case."

"You are making no sense, dragon, and my patience is waning."

"My, _apologies_, young warlock," the dragon sneered through gritted teeth. "I had forgotten your ignorance. I have told you many a time that your magic is elemental, pure. I have spent the last part of our conversation trying to get through your thick skull. Whilst the magic of others is filled with human clutter and waste, there are four who walk this earth with the power of an element in their minds, their veins and their souls. You are one, driven by the might of earth. The witch is another, she is driven by fire. When her magic attacks her, it burns her alive." Merlin reeled with horror as he looked down at her face. This was his fault this was – all his fault. His determination to see evil in her at every turn. He accused her of being blinded by hatred, and yet he was the one who was blind. Blinded by destiny, and by the beguiling words of the Great Dragon. And through it, he had lost Morgana. Yes she had made her own path, but it was his treachery that had sent her down there. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he cradled her in his arms. The last time she had been at death's door, he had not mourned her. It had been a casualty, she had brought it on herself with her double cross. Her bruises, the pain on her face had brought guilt, but not remorse or sadness. It had been guilt that had driven him to heal her, guilt that only increased his hatred of her for making him feel this way. Truth was, until all was forced in to seriousness, he enjoyed sparring with Morgana. Too long he had gone without worthy opposition, and Morgana was certainly his match. That day when she had claimed credit for his conquest of her army, so much had gone unsaid between them, said only with their eyes. But there had been enjoyment. There had been mocking, teasing behind the malice in both of their eyes, and he knew that she had been enjoying this as much as he had. Her smirks had confirmed that. But now he understood her, understood the confliction and hurt underneath Morgana's hatred. Yet it was too little, too late. No. There was still hope. There was still something he could do.

"If we could empower the element within her, make it resistant to the aether – surely that can be done? Good must always overcome evil, it is the natural way."

"Perhaps," the dragon turned his head from Merlin, angered at having lead him to this conclusion. Merlin spoke, thoughts whirring in his head like clockwork.

"Her magic is consuming her, but if we can let the uncorrupted consume the corrupted then her body will be her own again – that's it, it must be the way!" His deep blue eyes pierced the dragon's skin and suddenly felt as though he could see right in to the depths of the dragon's icy heart. When Merlin finally spoke again, it was levelly, with the most strained control over his temper. "Breathe over her. Fire – her element. It must be the way." The dragon arched a scaly eyebrow.

"Very well, young warlock. But I cannot promise her survival. These are dangerous matters you are dealing with. I wonder if this is a battle even you cannot hope to fight." Chuckling maliciously to himself, the Great Dragon inhaled, and blew with all his might. A torrent of flames escaped from his mouth, engulfing the sorceress in their might. An aura surrounded her – amber and gold, the colours of magic. Merlin watched in awe; the act seemed celestial in some way. He gazed, transfixed, as the flames receded, until Morgana was left untouched. Merlin saw that she had not been burnt; her skin was as pale as moonlight. But her suffering had ceased. Morgana's once erratic breathing, though quiet, was now peaceful. The frown that had marked her agony relaxed, and her face was calm. She was at peace. The dragon broke the silence, gazing at Morgana in contempt. "Her magic is pure once more, but the battle for the witch's magic has weakened her. Unless you can find a way to give her strength, she has a matter of hours." With that, the dragon took off in to the sky, his wings beating like drums. Merlin stared after Kilgarrah in disbelief. Had it all been for nothing? Was Morgana already too far gone for him to save her? He looked down at her face, so peaceful after so many days of torment.

"Morgana, I am so – so sorry," he whispered. He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers, gently, as if afraid she would break in his arms. The tears ran freely down his face now and his body was wracked with sobs. He kissed her again, desperately, wishing more than ever that she would respond to him. But it was then, searching the depths of his heart that he realised what he had to do. What he must do, for her.

Deep in Morgana's mind, a part of her struggled for consciousness, a part that had watched in horror as her own body became her torture chamber. It was dark. Very dark. Yet now, she was at peace. And as Morgana welcomed the concord, she felt tired. So tired that she thought she might collapse in to herself. So tired that she could not lift her eyelids, nor move her limbs to arise. How she longed for darkness, for oblivion. Morgana had been through enough to want the end, to greet death as a friend rather than fear it as an enemy. Yet she knew somewhere there was a reason for her to live. Her sister would be grieved and bereft at her death, but there was someone else, too. Someone she couldn't quite put her finger on, but was there all the same. And she owed it to that someone to fight, to try and recover. Shouldn't be too hard. If there was one thing she knew about herself, it was that she didn't give up. That she was a fighter, and that so long as that someone was by her, holding her hand and stroking her hair, she could carry on.

Morgana Pendragon was coming home to the man who had called her name as she lay dying. The man who was her destiny, and as it would seem, her salvation.

**Well, whadya think? I'm a bit unhappy with it myself, so please leave a bit of constructive criticism with your reviews! (Writing multi-chapters is hard!) Ta! xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello (very loyal) followers! I am so, so sorry about this update date. It's been a really stressful year and I made the newbie mistake of thinking I could do two stories and schoolwork. Credit must go to Aly G for making me take up this story again, if you're reading this your review really cured my writers' block with this story!**

**So if you've stuck with this story despite the over flowery writing, uneven plot and ridiculous update date – what can I say, Thank you!**

Merlin raised his eyes to the sky, watching as Kilgharrah disappeared; a black speck amongst the bright white heavens. The snow devoured Camelot, enveloping it in a heavy shroud. The silence cut in to you as the harsh winds did: Biting at your cheeks and scratching at your chest as a wild cat would. It drowned out any sounds of life; any colour that dared to bloom. Birds didn't sing, not even the young robins and merlins dotted around the forest. The holly and the ivy, normally so abundant in the harsh winter months: Withering, dead. Everything muffled by the shroud.

Well, perhaps not everything. Worming its way through the snow: A rose tint; A pale shade of pink, slowly protruding through the white. It infected, it spread like a disease; like a contagion. The earth was screaming, crying out in pain and anguish. But no one could hear her underneath the shroud. The earth was being buried alive, and all you could hear now was the faint scratching of her fingers against the coffin. No one could hear her dying whisper, save perhaps the trees. The Great Oaks, standing tall after thousands of years, carrying the whisper of the earth in the rustle of their leaves. What were they calling?

"_Uther Pendragon…Uther Pendragon…."_

Merlin groaned in defeat as he picked Morgana up, her malnourished body feather-light in his arms. His head ached, as if great bells were tolling in his head. He laid her down in the fur-lined alcove once more, taking off his own fur and putting it around her. He wrapped her up tenderly, and felt relieved to see the peace in her face. No longer was her face contorted in torment, her mouth mumbling words that were in no language he knew. She was sleeping. Perhaps that was how she would die: just drifting in that peaceful slumber. He lifted her head on to his lap, the small of her back suspended on his arms as he cradled her. That was how the two remained for a while: Morgana still and pale with cold, him shielding her from the snow. Under the shade of the great oak tree.

After a while, Merlin drew out his water pouch and tipped some down Morgana's throat, his hands shaking as he held her head up. He had used nearly all of it up during her attacks earlier, however, and soon enough it ran dry. He made an attempt to get up – and yet soon enough he fell to the ground, crushed by some invisible weight. He cried out in pain, the ache in his head doubling. Using the tree, he desperately tried to pull himself up, only to fall down once more, tearing at his hair in an effort to alleviate the pain. He crawled out of the oak only to retch and vomit, crimson blood pouring out of his mouth. He knew now, he could not deny it any longer. It was coming for him, as it came for Morgana. He slumped to the ground, lying with his cheek pressed against hers.

As he thought, it was as if he was detached from his body. His future outstretched in front of him, so bleak and dark that he couldn't associate himself with it. He could kill himself. The dagger in Morgana's belt, he could end it all now. Both of them, they were beyond help now. Truth was, the thought of going through the agony Morgana went through scared him beyond fear of death. Because he knew that it would be slower, more tortuous with him. It would bury him.

And yet a small part of him refused to accept it. He couldn't end it, not whilst there was even the smallest chance that Morgana could be saved. He fought the urge to close his eyes, taking her hands in his and holding them tight. She was his anchor, his lighthouse in the bleak seas of what lay ahead. Perhaps it was her hands, small and delicate in his; that made him realise what he had to do. It came to him as naturally as her hair falling over his face as she moved in her coma. Merlin remembered the Great Dragon's words.

"_Only the truly soulless have ever come there, but when they do, it is as if their feet have sought that path of their own accord." _The incantation that filled his weary heart with hope felt ancient; deep and mysterious. It spoke to him as he realised his love, as he groaned as the Aether continued to suffocate him. His feet found the path, and he walked it, slowly and with a glad heart. He laughed, a rasping cackle, at the thought of him giving up his life for his worst enemy, the woman who incensed him, who nearly drove him to madness.

What he was planning was dangerous, it was insane – it could kill them both. It reduced the hours he had left until the Aether took hold of him fully in to seconds. But it was worth it if it gave him just that glimmer of hope. Hope that she might wake up. He whispered in to her ear,

"Morgana? Morgana it has come. I can't hold out much longer. I'm sorry, I can't stop it – I can't get up. Morgana if you can hear me then I'm so sorry, so desperately sorry. This is all my fault." She moaned a little in her sleep, and he squeezed her hand.

"I'm going to make it all right. Just, just…" He drew the dagger from Morgana's belt, holding it up in the pale white light of the morning. It glinted and shone, the jewels seeming cruel, terrible in their beauty. Merlin closed his eyes.

"_**Lyf suiten braeth in maydene fairne. Baren mion I praye, trouthe mortale bismotered martir asit semed mion!" **_With those words, he raised the dagger and made a deep cut in his wrist, pressing it over Morgana's heart.

Morgana heard the words, somewhere deep inside her damaged mind, and her heart broke in two as she heard every wretched syllable that brought her closer to the surface. Soon she could feel again, feel the snow beneath her palm and the icy wind on her face. Morgana moved her lips, sound seeming so foreign to her that the words were slurred and misshapen.

"No Merlin. Please, you can't!" She felt his breath in her ear, his cheek on hers.

"Morgana I must. Can't you see?" She didn't quite have the strength to call him out for the self-sacrificing noble idiot he was. Instead she opened her eyes, slowly, the world seeming too bright and shattered in to a thousand and one pieces of glass. It swam before her, but she fought against it. There were far more important things on her mind.

"Merlin I know what you're doing. I know the spell." She tried once more to speak, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "Blood bonds dangerous. Bind us - but they weaken you. Must see – can't hope to fight of Aether. Listen – Merlin listen."

"Morgana, I love you. I wish I could stay, I wish we could escape together. Try and get to Camelot. Forgive Uther, and Arthur. Don't hate. Please, Morgana –" He screamed in pain, and his back twisted as if the bones there were slowly being broken: One by one. The spell was nearly over; Morgana's front was nearly soaked with blood. He smiled through his pain. It was working.

Morgana sat up, coughing weakly before falling gently back on to the ground, gasping for breath. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony, and she breathed, evenly and deeply. His blood stained her tunic, down to her heart. She knew what he had done. What scared her more was that blood bonds were a pact not only of total and unconditional love, but of sacrifice. Merlin was intent on dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. The spell was so near completion, and Merlin's eyelids were gently closing, his brow furrowed in pain. She moaned, her mouth still struggling to form coherent sentences.

"Merlin please. Please, let me die." Tears formed their silver tracks down her face, and she sobbed in to the empty sky, "I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve your sacrifice. Let it be me, stop it and you have a chance." Merlin's lips began to form the final part of the incantation, and Morgana kissed him over and over, desperately trying to silence the words that were coming. But he was so weak, he could barely respond.

It was then that three dark figures appeared in the forest, cold and silent in their watchfulness. Their hoods were drawn far over their faces, and they spoke in harsh rasping tones as they pointed their finger at Merlin.

"This cannot be. This cannot be!"

"The Emrys is not ready to leave this world. But what is this?"

"He has performed a blood bond with The Faye." The three women turned their heads towards Morgana.

"You are a Priestess, child?" Another chimed in,

"A High Priestess, no less. Far from home, is this one."

"I'm not even a Priestess yet – I am but an initiate." Morgana managed to get out. The three nodded, and the smallest knelt down.

"Sisters we must arm him. Even the Emrys cannot fight the Aether in his condition. Look at the poor child."

"I'm not a child!" Morgana whispered through clenched teeth. "Save him. Save him like he saved me."

"We cannot fight the Aether," the eldest intoned.

"It is beyond our power," the second added. But the third placed a forefinger under Morgana's chin, lifting up her head.

"But we can help. We can give him love; we can give him hope. Sometimes the power of these outdoes even our own. He loves you. We can give you an hour more with him and you can fight it, together." Morgana shook her head.

"The Aether fights against love, it destroys it."

"But that is not to say that love cannot fight back. We will hold it back for one hour. He has forged a blood bond, and such things cannot be changed, nor taken away. But you can give him your love." Morgana pulled herself up, propping her frail body up on her elbow.

"Will I see you again?" All three shook their heads.

"We cannot stay on this earth long. The Aether is poison to us; it will destroy us instantly if we continue to walk this earth. We cannot have any part in the events that are to come."

"One hour," Morgana murmured, in quiet despair.

"It is all we can do. Fare thee well, child. And may the Goddess have mercy on you both.

The trio vanished, and Morgana fell back on to the ground, barely breathing as she listened out for Merlin's voice.

It felt like hours, the wait. It tore at Morgana and she fought back tears, calling Merlin's name.

It was, in truth, only a few minutes, before she felt a hand slip in to her own.

"Morgana," the voice whispered, and she turned to face him, their foreheads touching. She let out a sob.

"Merlin, Merlin please tell me…"

"I'm here. I'm here Morgana and whatever happens I'm not going to lose you again." She felt for his arm, holding on to him, hardly daring to believe that he was with her once more. She no longer fought back the tears, letting them stream down her face, on Merlin's face as their tears mingled.

"How can you say that," she sobbed, "when in an hour you will leave me – and perhaps you will never wake up."

Their eyes met, and he took her fingers in his, warming them with his touch. Her hand rested on his chest, and he pulled down the headscarf that had been keeping her hair in place, watching as her ebony black hair tumbled down her back. He toyed with it, stroking the back of her head. Morgana used the opportunity to duck under his arms, so they encircled her, the two sorcerers facing each other. Merlin's face, so drained of colour after giving his blood, flushed a pale pink, and he hesitated slightly. In the end, he shook off his doubt and kissed her, cupping her face in his hand. She responded hungrily, folding herself around him, the two only stopping for breath. He broke off, panting slightly.

"I don't care. I don't care about any of that because we're here now, and there's no one who can stop us." He whispered hoarsely. "Fate has done its level best to tear us apart, but no more, I swear it. This is it, no more poisoning,"

"Or raising armies,"

"Or pushing you down the stairs..." Morgana's eyes widened.

"That was you! Merlin!" Merlin hastily backtracked,

"But then I was the one who cured you – I never wanted to see you hurt." Morgana narrowed her eyes, and then laughed.

"Still can't beat the time Morgause and I tied you to a tree and left you for the Serkets." He chuckled.

"No. It seems that no matter how hard we try, we just can't defeat each other, Morgana."

The two leant in, and their lips met, gently, achingly softly. Their kisses deepened, and Merlin sat up, leaning over Morgana as she pulled at his shirt. Suddenly she broke off, confused.

"How can you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Sit up – it took me an hour just to get up off my back. You've been awake for a few minutes and already you can – how?" Merlin frowned, running his hands through his hair.

"It's us," he said slowly. "When I created the bond – look, we're making each other stronger. Think of how much magic was in the air when the blood bond was made – the Aether, us; the Disir were appearing. That must have been what they meant – I think we've done something more than we first thought.

A small smirk graced Morgana's lips.

"So this…" She kissed Merlin, bringing her leg up around his waist, "this makes us stronger." Merlin blushed a little: unused to being flirted with. The feelings of unease soon died, however, as she began to kiss him harder, so hard that he thought she might leave a bruise on his mouth.

It was passionate and raw and desperate, the short time Merlin had with her made all the more poignant by their unfurling feelings. Merlin expertly undid the fastenings of Morgana's tunic and pulled her down on to him, and he fell back inside the tree, the earth soft beneath his back. She rested on top of him, her hands on his chest, and the two looked at each other for about a minute, trying to drink the other up. Morgana began playing with Merlin's shirt fastenings, undoing each one slowly. Her tunic lay abandoned on the floor. Merlin smiled, whispering,

"It's too cold," Morgana's laugh rang out like silver bells across the forest.

"Is it Merlin?" And she kissed him with a passion and force that made him feel giddy.

"No," he managed to choke out, as she rained kisses on his neck.

_**Please leave a review, I would love to hear from you!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A lot better than the last update gap methinks ;)**

**Updates after this will be every other Monday, save this August as I am going away for two weeks. Please review – I now have 100 followers, which I am so excited about, but I missed my reviewers – even if I did kind of deserve it!**

Night fell, the inky black of the sky beautiful against the snow. Out in the forest, away from the hustle and bustle of the citadel, the stars seemed almost tangible in their beauty. The seven sisters – the maidens who watched over travellers. The moon was a silver stag, black clouds darting across it gave the appearance of running through the night sky. Snow fell, and perhaps it would have been beautiful. But a pretty surface cannot mask the ice heart within.

Morgana was well acquainted with this fact. She sat, her beautiful face as blank as the snow around her. Not long ago she had been curled up in blankets, awaiting death in an iron cage. Now her eyes, as hard and cold as the emeralds that poets so often compared them to, told a different story. Emeralds can cut through iron bars as if they were water, as if there was nothing there but air.

Morgana Pendragon, who had burnt brighter than the seven stars. Now she burned ice.

Merlin's head was on her lap, that idiotic neckerchief still around his neck. His breathing was more laboured now, and every minute or so he would cry out in pain, his body twisting and convulsing in its rejection of the poison. It was less frenzied, less mad and fast than her own attack, but it was killing him all the same. As he lay, crumpled and broken in her arms, she could not bring herself to feel. To feel was to be hurt, and she had had enough pain for one lifetime.

He moaned again, his moans erupting in to full blown screams.

"Help me! Gods I – Morgana I'm sorry, I never meant to – kill me. Please - kill me, I want to die, I WANT TO DIE." Morgana flinched, gripping his hand tightly.

"Shh, my love, it's all right."

"Warn him – we must warn him."

"Merlin please,"

"Morgana run! It's coming, they're coming! Please just run." Eventually he calmed, his breathing erratic: Desperately trying to suck in oxygen to feed his starving lungs, but not quite getting enough each time.

Morgana laid herself down on the snow next to him, pressing her cheek to his. It was at moments such as these that she hoped beyond reason that those cobalt blue eyes of his would lift to meet hers. Even if he didn't wake up – just to look at her for a while. She missed his eyes.

Before he succumbed once more, and he had lain with her under the late sunset, his eyes had devoured her, hoping to grasp every inch of her before he left once more. Her sister had taught her that she could use her body to gain powerful allies, how she must seduce and manipulate without betraying pain or fear. Morgause knew how the virgin princess of Camelot would one day win them a powerful ally, and had forbade her from taking a lover in the castle. Yet somehow their plans faded into unimportance that night, as Merlin had taken her in his arms and enveloped himself in her warmth. All there was in all of the world was him and her, and that night, in the biting cold in the small alcove of a tree, she thought that the stars in her eyes would melt in to infinity and she would rise in to the heavens. His fingers had been ice cold as they caressed her jaw, her waist, her breasts. His lips had been colder. So why was it that he made her feel so warm – as if her bones were lit by some unseen flame.

The tree was fur lined, a fire lit outside. Yet now she was cold, so cold that Moragana felt as if she would never be warm again. As she had done when Merlin had given her hemlock in a guise of kindness. Her heart had seemed so heavy and painful in her chest that she thought it must have frozen, and the ice splinters tearing at her internal organs. But now for that ice to melt, for the frost in her breath to fall as flowers at her feet – it hurt worse than it had done that first time. Because Merlin was finding it harder and harder to breathe. And she could never give him enough.

Morgana crushed the herbs she found in Merlin's bag to form an odd sort of poultice, tipping Merlin's head back as she poured it down his throat.

A rustle in the bushes: Someone watching them. Morgana stood and pulled a crossbow from _her _bag, aiming it carefully at the bushes. She was better with a knife, but she could hit a fast moving target should it try and attack her. Uther had always considered archery to be a far more ladylike sport than jousting – a sentiment that Morgana found ridiculous considering the damage any man or woman could do with a crossbow.

"Who's there?" She called out, praying to the Goddess that this was not a bandit attack. "Show yourself." Was her magic strong enough to blast back an attack? It would have to be. A figure emerged from the bushes, her dagger glinting in the silver glow of the moon. Morgana gasped, her eyes lighting up with something wilder than the blizzard wind tearing its path through the forest.

Hope.

"Morgause?" She whispered, hardly daring to believe that the woman in front of her was not some ghost, or apparition.

Morgause's next movements seemed to pass by in a second as she flung down her knife and wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her as if she would never let her go. As Morgana pressed her forehead to her sisters, she was shocked to feel tears running down Morgause's face, and she found herself in the strange position of comforting her older, far stronger sister.

"I thought I had lost you again," Morgause said in a thick voice, "I thought you had died. I kept thinking how if you died your body would be buried by the snow, and I might never find you." Morgana drew her head back, surprised to find that no tears came. She was yet the frozen doll.

"How did you find me? How did you know I was here?"

"I scried." Morgause murmured. "I was terrified for you, and then I saw you convulsing, screaming, so much blood – I thought –"

"I am fine, sister." Morgana soothed. "I am free from the poison that plagued me. All is well."

Morgause nodded, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes. It did not do well for High Priestesses to cry. She kissed Morgana's forehead, gently, and Morgana frowned up at her sister.

"How long has it been since my birthday?" It was Morgause's turn to frown, stroking her cheek gently.

"Morgana, today is the day of the Winter Solstice. The day of the sun's death, one of the most important days of the Old Religion." Morgana paled, her head beginning to throb as she wondered exactly what she and Merlin had done.

"Powerful magic," she said, slowly, "powerful magic performed on these days…" Morgause cut her off.

"That's is why we must return to the Isle of the Blessed. Now is the time the earth is at its most vulnerable to the darkness. Perhaps there will come a day when this darkness will serve us, but for now we must fend it off lest the earth descend in to chaos. Come sister. I know I ordered for you to return to Camelot, but I feel it is time for you to come home to me." Morgana's eyes became deadened once more,

"No." Morgause took a step back.

"No?" It was then she caught sight of Merlin, lying behind Morgana and thrashing in his coma. "The boy." She hissed, drawing her dagger. "Was it him who caused this? Poisoning you as he poisoned you before…" Morgause approached Merlin, a gleam of madness in her eyes. Morgana acted without thinking.

"No!" She flung herself across him, and in Morgause's haste was caught in the sharp stroke of the knife. Morgause blinked, confused.

"Morgana? I – I – are you all right, you foolish girl?" Morgana breathed heavily, checking over Merlin for damage.

"Did she hurt you?" She whispered distractedly, brushing his hair from his eyes. Morgause seemed at a loss for words. Finally she got out,

"You're bleeding. Come here."

"A scratch, sister." Morgana muttered, still wary of Morgause. The full pain of the cut hit her, and she allowed herself a gasp. Morgause was still struggling to comprehend what had happened as she tore the hem of her dress and made to bandage Morgana's wound. However she started back in shock upon seeing the wound.

Morgana bled silver blood, the wound seeming to glow and glisten with the blue-pearly sheen of the Seven Sisters. Morgana looked down in fascination, in awe. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together in her mind now. Morgause found her voice.

"Explain."

"Explain what?" Morgause turned her around, the fierce brown eyes meeting the fiercer green.

"Don't toy with me, Morgana."

"All right." She took a deep breath. "I performed a blood bond, with one of the most powerful warlocks ever to walk the earth, on midwinter's day in the presence of Disir. I doubt the silver in my blood will last beyond today, but perhaps…" Morgana ran out of breath and Morgause pounced.

"The most powerful warlock to walk the earth?" Morgause said eagerly "And one who you must love and who loves you in return – where is he?" At that moment Merlin cried out, a cry deeper than the molten fire at the centre of the earth.

"Run! Run – you shall not harm her." Morgana reached out for Merlin's hand, stroking the line where his jaw and neck met.

"Breathe, my love." She murmured. His screams crescendoed, and Morgause covered her ears, so full of raw agony were they.

"What is happening to him?" Morgause called out over his roars. Morgana paid no heed, simply pulling him close to her and rocking him back and forth as if he was a child. Remembering what the Disir said, she whispered in to his hair.

"I love you. I love you and you can fight this. You have to fight this. Fight this and come home to me." His cries began to die down, and ebbed out as the tide did, in to whimpers, and finally back to the choked breathing that picked at the seams of her heart.

"It's the Aether, sister." Morgana said quietly. Merlin had brought her up to speed before he had fallen, and Morgause's face turned the colour of underdone porridge as Morgana continued. "But a day ago I was given up for dead. The Aether – it treats us differently. It goes after our souls, it feeds on the darkness within us and destroys the good it finds." She laughed bitterly. "I was a well of the stuff."

Her sister frowned.

"But for Merlin to be affected..." she gasped, her eyes widening. "He has magic? This boy – this simple servant."

"He doesn't just have magic," Morgana spoke with quiet but fierce pride. "He is the Emrys, the light, the beacon that so many follow. He is the warlock who I performed the blood bond with and he is one of the most powerful sorcerers ever to live." She smirked. "Apart from me, one day." Something akin to jealousy flickered in Morgause's eyes.

"So you would give your allegiance to him – because you fancy yourself in love He lied to you, sister. He made you feel alone and afraid – and then he poisoned you."

"Do you think I do not know this? When I think of what he did, the lies he fed me – sometimes it still fills me with rage – sometimes it still makes me want to scream and strike him. But if I do not forgive him, it will consume me. It will devour me sister – can't you understand?" Perhaps her tone was more barbed than she intended. At any rate, Morgause first widened her eyes in shock, then pressed her mouth in to a thin line.

"Have you lain with him?" At Morgana's silence, something in Morgause snapped. Everything seemed to slow down as Morgause raised her hand and brought the back of it, hard, down on to Morgana's cheek. Morgana crumpled on to the floor, holding her face in shock. The silver blood trickled down her cheek from where Morgause's nails had made contact with skin.

"How could you be so stupid?" Morgause shouted, "Everything we've worked for, all that we want to achieve, gone in a moment of infatuation. We could have found you a warlord, a king. Instead you went for a skinny, murderous manservant who claims to be the 'all powerful Emrys' but is currently thrashing about on the floor!" Morgana looked up at her sister, the rage and fear that had been simmering at the surface since Merlin had succumbed to the Aether reaching boiling point. With a jerk of her head, Morgause was flung against the nearest tree with a sickening crack. The enchantment was so fast not a living mortal could have blocked it. What concerned Morgause the most, however, was Morgana's eyes. Rather than glowing their usual pale gold, instead they burnt the brightest of silvers, dazzling in their luminence. Of course, she wasn't able to notice it for very long, as soon after she made impact with the tree and lost consciousness.

Morgana looked at her sister, struggling to find remorse for what she did, but then feeling the red welt on her cheek. Instead, she made her way over to Merlin: still moaning gently on the ground, and wrapped her blanket around him.

Morgause came to slowly, her head pounding. The bump seemed to have knocked the anger out of her, and she rubbed the lump on her head admiringly.

"You've really come on in the last few weeks, Morgana. Even by your blasting-people-back standards that was an impressive enchantment." The ghost of a smirk flickered across Morgana's lips.

"Looks like you can't just clout me when it pleases you." Morgause gave her a rueful smile, holding out a hand.

"Peace?" Morgana nodded.

"Peace." The two shook hands, and Morgause dabbed at the silver scratch she had inflicted on Morgana. "That will leave a bruise." Morgana gave her a weak smile.

"Do not worry yourself, sister. I have faced far worse this week, believe me."

Morgana reached for the bowl of her hastily constructed soup and lifted Merlin's head, gently spooning the stuff down his throat. Morgause watched her, wringing her hands.

"I cannot believe I let you face this alone." Morgana smiled to herself.

"I was never alone. Merlin was by my side: holding me and caring for me all the while." Morgause frowned.

"How did you escape its clutches? The blood bond, surely…" Morgana filled her sister in on the dragon, and the elemental nature of the magic. Morgause's eyes grew as wide as saucers.

"A Dragonlord? More than that, the Dragonlord of the King of Dragons himself? Sister, you are wise indeed to have bonded with this man. To have Kilgharrah the Magnificent himself on our side…"

"Morgause, the dragon had to be forced in to this." Morgana commented wryly, "I doubt very much he's 'on our side,' as you put it."

"And to have such a powerful blood bond with the Emrys himself," Morgause murmured. "Truly no one will be able to stop the deposing of the Tyrant." She spat at the last word. "Did he find you both out? Slip the poison in your drink?"

"No – he put it in the water supply of Camelot. Clever, really, as the symptoms of a magic user reveal themselves before the user knows to conceal themselves. If Merlin hadn't…Morgause?"

Morgause barely seemed to hear her, standing up and looking all around them in the clearing, her breathing hard and fast.

Morgana carefully laid Merlin on the floor, rising to join her sister.

"Morgause, what is it? What is wrong?"

"You say Uther put the Aether in the water supply?" She whispered, and Morgana nodded, confused.

"But I am fine now – Merlin saved me. You have no cause for fear."

"Oh my naïve little sister," Morgause said softly. "All the earth has cause for fear thanks to Uther the Tyrant." She turned to Morgana.

"Who advised the King on this matter – do you know?" Morgana frowned.

"I think Merlin mentioned The Sarrum, but those in his Kingdom have long been killed…"

"And what makes Amata different to Camelot, Morgana?" Morgana's head began to throb once more.

"I do not know, I have not been there since –their warriors are trained stricter. Their Gods are different."

"More obvious, Morgana." Morgause said impatiently. "Use your head, girl." Morgana reflected, until a chill ran up her spine and she looked around her in horror.

"Amata is barren." She whispered. "Nothing grows there, everything is imported."

"Yes Morgana." Morgause said heavily. "When The Sarrum of Amata told Uther to put the Aether in the water supply, he knew not of the consequence because he never had need to water his land. But Camelot, abundant with wheat, orchards prized amongst the seven kingdoms – oh Uther Pendragon has condemned us all in his madness."

Morgause bent down, her eyes closed, afraid of what she might find. Morgana held her breath.

"Don't. Please, Morgause." The deep brown eyes met the green, and held her gaze, impassively. After moments that felt like days, Morgause scooped up a handful of snow. There, beneath the ice lay the earth. At least, it had once resembled earth. Now it was soaked in blood, the ground sticky and crimson red; the sickening stench of long dead corpses arising from the earth." Morgause looked up, the look in her eyes further than fear, beyond despair.

"This is it. The end – of everything."

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